Southern constellations follow celestial ritual.
Encroaching darkness has extinguished flickering flame.
Animal echoes of day's willingness to die,
are met with melancholy from homo sapien
Chaos ferments amongst a wort of delirium.
Calls of a sweet goddess force a psychotic stumble for clarity.
Only sound permeates leaves of this forest,
for the moon's guidance is in the North this night.
(Fear of the unknown manifest in confusion,
even the termite stays shielded in it's spire.)